Days in June
by Kayarde
Summary: Berlin 1953: He knew it was hopeless but he threw the stone anyway.


16th June, 1953

East Germany wasn't in a good constitution.

He walked through the busy streets of Berlin his capital, vast parts still laid in ruins, or at least the eastern part of the city. The other half belonged to West Germany, his little brother; although West had made the rather small city of Bonn his capital in hope of a reunion.

East Germany sighed, as if that was going to happen anytime in the near future.

His government had proclaimed some time ago that he was the first "Socialist Workers' and Farmers' State on German soil", meaning he as a state was supposed to have no ties to his past with the German Reich. Well as much as he wished that would be true but since he had been the physical representation of the Free State of Prussia not too long ago the historical luggage was still present. No matter what that Communist Party decreed and decided he still had the memories and the scars of every battle he had ever fought since the Teutonic knights. His government was so pathetic. West's government at least tried to take responsibility for the genocide that had been orchestrated in the name of that mad man and tried to make amends.

And then there were the wounds form WWII that refused to heal properly. Some were still bleeding even after eight years or perhaps the blood loss was the manifestation of the intellectuals and craftsman fleeing the land. His already slender frame had become downright skeletal and he was shaken by coughing fits. The bags under his red eyes were more prominent than ever and his light skin had taken on a pasty colouring. He was skinny and constantly sick and weak, so bloody weak. West got off lucky. With the Marshall-Plan in place to rebuild Western Europe he would be back on his feet in no time. East on the other hand had the Soviet Union breathing down his neck and if the government keep on their path East might as well move in with Russia like the Baltics.

The SED[1] party leadership had been invited to a visit to Moscow last week. Invitation, yeah right... if they hadn't shown up then Soviet tanks would have rolled through the streets of Berlin. Of course East had to attend as well so they had dragged him all the way to Russia who had this bloody sweetly smile on his face that scared the crap out of everyone. Oh Gott, he had just wanted to punch the Soviet Union square in the face. If only he wasn't so weak at the moment.

They had been called to Moscow because the GDR economy was in a horrid situation and the building of the socialist state on German lands didn't go as fast as ordered. Well if the Russians hadn't dismantled every damn factory within the SBZ[2] then perhaps they might be able to fulfil the demand.

He sighed again. Saying the situation was not good would have been an understatement if there ever was one. The economy was on its knees since the SED had invested far too much into heavy industry which had no basis in his lands. West was the one, who got the Ruhr-region with the steel and coal industry. To get the vast amounts of energy needed for steel production the government turned off electricity for the population at dusk. And the expropriation of vast pieces of land left a great number of farmsteads abandoned; which meant no food production which in turn meant that his people were starving. Old Man Fritz had gotten past the same problem and certainly not by keeping farmers from growing potatoes on their land.

He leaned against a lantern post and felt tears of anger stinging in his eyes. They were his people and they were starving. He had learned the hard way that if you ignored the wishes and the wellbeing of your people for the twisted ideals of your government it always ended in heartbreak and bloodshed, destruction and pain. He had learned his lesson during the last eight years since the end of the Second World War and the downfall of the most twisted government to ever trample on the surface of the earth, his former government. This all was his' own damn fault.

Overcome by his anger he let out a savage cry and punched the next best wall leaving behind cracks in the structure.

East stared at the crater. Something had happened. Something had given the will to fight back to his people; and therefore to him. A savage grin he had nearly forgotten spread across his face. He was regaining strength. The puppet government put in place by the occupying force was in for a hell of a fight.

His gaze wandered down the street where a crowd had assembled.

It had started small. Just a small number of workers at a construction site laid down their tools and marched towards the House of the Labor Union, a small demonstration for better work conditions. On their way through the streets of Berlin the number grew as more and more workers joined the demonstrators.

Since the Labor Union refused to listen to the demands of the workers they marched strait to the seat of the government. By the time they reached the destination there it was no longer about the concrete reason for better work conditions but against everything the socialist regime stood for. Of course East stood right in the middle of the demonstrations demanding free elections and the resignation of the government.

17th June, 1953

Just in time for the morning shift in a majority of factories the entire staff laid down their work and got on the streets demonstrating. Every construction site and every factory in the GDR stood still. The entire population of East Germany repeated the demands from yesterday. The calls for free elections and the resignation of the SED regime had only been heard in Berlin yesterday now all over the land in the industrial centres and larger cities these calls could be heard. East marched in the first row of the Berlin protests, his sick and weak constitution completely forgotten.

In the larger cities the governmental buildings were occupied and in Berlin they burned down symbols of the regime.

The spontaneous protests all over the land were neither organized nor did they have a central starting point. This was the desire of the people. And this was utter chaos.

By midmorning the government had fled the capital under the protection of the soviet garrison. Pathetic, they were unable to peacefully reign in the population of East Germany. Not that East had any desire to listen to them and obviously his people agreed. The savage grin he had lost eight years earlier now constantly brightened his face.

He was high with enthusiasm. Although protests weren't allowed by the government the entire country was on a national strike, they stood up for their rights. A smile spread across his features bright with hope. There was no way that the weak SED leadership stood a chance against the combined will of every man and woman in the country. The police force had trouble to stop the advance of the demonstrators and in some cases they joined in with the masses. He could feel it flowing through his veins, the desire for a revolution.

Then the Russian tanks came, driving directly into the masses. East and a number of citizens picked up bricks and stones throwing them at the foreign military. But what could stones do against the hard steel of the tanks. They just bounced right back not even leaving a dent. Cries of helpless frustration ran through the crowd as the useless projectiles were thrown, until shots tore through the chaos.

A man next to East fell down, dead. How do you defend yourself against bullets when everything you have is stones? The shots didn't stop, the tanks advanced and left and right they arrested people.

They came for him. In handcuffs they dragged him kicking and screaming together with a number of citizens all the way to the Russian garrison where his government had taken to hiding.

Martial law, when West Germany got the information that the soviets had called martial law all over the GDR he shuddered. The memories of what transpired in the last weeks of WWII on the eastern front were still too fresh. He knew the ruthlessness every soldier no matter the nationality fell into under martial law.

He had been in a conference with the victorious powers when the news about the situation in the GDR came in.

West didn't care that he didn't have a military or nothing more than a police force. Right now all he cared about was that his brother and his people were being shot at by the soviet military.

"If you'd excuse me" West got up from his seat with full intention of helping his brother.

He was already out of the building when America grabbed him by the upper arm. "You will do no such foolishness" Britain commented as he leaned against the doorframe. He had an ironic smile on the face. "Do you really want to start another war with Russia?"

West turned to the victors an unreadable expression on his face. America applied more force probably leaving bruises on the light skin. "There is nothing you can do." Regret could be heard in his voice. _And there is nothing we will do,_ rang through the sentence as well.

Defeated he closed his eyes and turned his head fighting the feeling of helplessness welling up in his chest. If he tried something the allies would hold him back by force taking away what little self-determination they had granted him. And starting another war without a military force wouldn't help his brother in the slightest. He couldn't do anything, apart from being there in his thoughts.

America's grip still strong on his shoulder he turned his gaze away from the East and faced the western horizon.

 _Es tut mir leid, Bruder._

 _I'm sorry, brother._

18th June, 1953

They made him watch of course they made him watch. The propaganda trials, the so called justice against men and women finally standing up for what was right. The so called instigators and "Agents of western spy- and terror-organizations" got a death sentence on their heads and were decapitated or shot on the spot according to material law. East was held down and they made sure he watched every single execution.

Every trial ended in conviction most of the accused got more than ten years for counterrevolutionary behaviour and treason. They all were so damn young, the majority wasn't older than twenty-five, some as young as fifteen barely more than children and because of their convictions they now found themselves on a train strait to Siberia. He desperately wanted to hit something.

He could see them from where he stood behind the bars of the prison within the Russian garrison the only place where they were able to keep him somewhat under control.

The heavy door of his cell creaked as it was opened. Red eyes tore away from the trains coming face to face with the personification of the Soviet Union. "You understand why you are in here, da?" A sugary smile was plastered all over his face.

"Other than the reason that your SED puppet government is unable to control me without your tanks?", East spat in direction of Russia fire still burning in his eyes.

"No, no. I have to protect you from yourself, da." Did the Soviet Union really believe the things he said? The smile was probably meant to be benevolent but to East it just looked downright sadistic. And East finally gave into his desire to punch that face. It felt as if he had tried to hit solid steel and he heard the tell-tale sound of bones cracking.

"See what I mean?" The smile was still there and it most likely wouldn't even bruise. "You are a danger to yourself."

Carefully Russia took Easts hand into his own looking it over before he shattered the cracked bones completely. The pain sent East to his knees breathing harshly. Russia gently lifted Easts head with his fingers and smiled brightly. "No matter what obstacles are put in my path I have to protect those who belong to me. Now try to not injure yourself further, da. I only try to protect you, so don't make it more difficult for yourself by these childish temper tantrums."

With that Russia left East Germany alone in the bare room with only the iron door and the barred window facing only towards the eastern horizon.

* * *

[1] SED – Sozialistische Einheitspartei Deutschlands, the only party that existed in the GDR

[2] SBZ – Sowjetische Besatzungszone, Zone occupied by the Soviets, became the GDR/DDR in 1949

A/N: Hetalia isn't mine.

A/N: I tried to be as accurate with the historical facts as possible. I didn't do any extensive research merely scraped together what I remembered from history class. So please if there are blatant mistakes tell me. Thanks


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